


These Are My Scars

by GranolaPerks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Chat-Room, Gen, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-04 22:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GranolaPerks/pseuds/GranolaPerks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a wounded war veteran with severe scarring all over his body, including his face. Due to rudeness from the public and general anxiety and depression about how he looks, Dean becomes a recluse. Sam works hard to get him out, but when nothing works, he suggests he turns to chat rooms.</p>
<p>Dean agrees tepidly, and after a while, finds himself glued to the screen, enamored with chatting up cassienov, a man who Dean is slowly befriending. But a relationship grows from their chatting, and Dean finds himself at a standstill. Does he show himself to Castiel and risk being rejected? Or does he turn away from what could be the most amazing relationship forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there.
> 
> This story is marked as complete, as it technically is, but I'll be uploading it in chapters. I'll post 1 chapter a day, which will put the final chapter up on Thursday. If you'd like to wait to read it until then, feel free. I'll also make a master-post of stuff related to this on my tumblr and lj on Friday, unless I have time on Thursday. So, there that is.
> 
> On another word, this deals with injuries and self-hatred and fear. Dean's got a mental disorder, so if that could be risky for you, I ask you to be careful.
> 
> Anyway, that's all. I hope you enjoy.

_The air was filled with dust and Dean couldn't breathe, nothing but screams coming out and dirt coming in. The ground beneath his body was soaked with blood, the dirt clumping together, but he pushed on._

_Others were screaming around him, and he tried to help, pushing passed a few bodies, but it was useless. Another explosion rumbled the ground, and dirt and debris flew passed him, and then he couldn't see or feel anything but black and the pain shooting all over his face._

_He screamed and writhed on the ground, but his sight was gone, and he could feel blood dripping in to his mouth and he knew he was going to die. This was what death felt like, he assumed. Darkness and pain. He was just waiting for the end where it all fell silent, but it never came. It never would._

Dean awoke in a cold sweat, chilled droplets clinging to his forehead and neck, the hollows of his cheeks damp compared to his mouth, which felt empty and barren.

He fumbled around the side of his bed for something– anything he could use to satiate himself. His fingers grazed against a water bottle he'd placed at the edge of his mattress for just this reason, but it rolled off the tips and off the edge of his bed.

"Fuck," he muttered hoarsely, rolling to the edge, stretching down to try and grab it, but it'd disappeared under his bed frame, and he didn't have the energy to waste on trying to fish it out. He pushed himself up in to a sitting position, letting the dizzying effects of sleep wear off before attempting to stand, only wobbling for a moment before he was able to stumble off to his bathroom.

He flicked on the sink, letting the water run for a quick second before cupping his hands, filling them and bringing them to his lips, gulping down handfuls of it. Water splashed over his face with every gulp, and he took a moment to catch his breath before cupping another handful, letting it fall down the sink as he broke the link he had.

Cupping his hands once more, he only filled them a bit, rubbing the water over his face this time. The liquid stung at his wounds and cuts, but he didn't stop or hold back. He turned off the water, grabbing a rag, patting his face dry harshly, holding back a hiss with every press. He deserved the pain.

"Sleep well?" A voice asked behind Dean, and he startled, turning around with wide eyes to see his lumbering tree of a brother leaning against the doorframe of his bathroom.

"What's it matter to you?" He shook his head, walking toward the exit. Sam moved for him. "Why are you here? Why are you  _awake_?"

"It's nine in the morning."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "So?" He pushed passed Sam, making his way back in to his room.

Sam grabbed his shoulder. "Dean. It's nine. Time to wake up."

"Why?"

"I…" Sam sighed, dropping his hand from him. "I was hoping you'd come out today. I've gotta go shopping. Figured you might like to come."

"Not a chance in hell, Sammy."

"Dean!" Sam followed Dean in to his room, stopping him before he could get back in bed. "It'd mean a lot to me if you'd come with."

Dean looked back at Sam, a glint in his eye. "I may be injured, Sammy, but I could kick your ass in half a second." Sam raised his eyebrows, and Dean copied him the best he could. "Don't tempt me."

"But De-"

"-I said no! Now go shopping-" Dean flopped down on his bed, rolling on his side and curling in to himself. "-and leave me alone."

Sam was prepared to argue back, to grab him and drag him from his bed to the outside world, make him see and feel again, but he knew better than to start a fight with him. "Dean, you can't spend the rest of your life in this room."

"I leave my room."

"In the house, then."

"It's better than being out there."

"Why?" He knew full well why.

"Because I'm not judged in here like I am out there, Sam! Leave me alone."

Sam sat on the edge of Dean's bed, reaching out to touch him, though retracted his hand. "You deserve a life, Dean. You deserve friends. You deserve  _love_. And you're not gonna find any of that in here."

"You're my friend."

"I don't count."

Dean's eyes were open but pointed away and down, staring hard at the base of the end table beside his bed, the cord from his clock viciously ripped out of its socket left hanging down toward the ground. He rolled forward to plug it back in, stretching his fingers as far as he could, trying to ignore Sam.

He couldn't. "So what do you suggest, Sammy? I'm not leaving."

Sam sighed, hoisting himself off of Dean's bed. "We'll talk about it later. I have a few ideas."

And with that he was gone. Dean had nothing left to say to him, and Sam knew that full well.

Dean went back to sleep, though it was distressing and rough, and he woke up a few hours later. He didn't bother getting out of bed. Sam would be in within the hour to force him out.

And he was right. Sam came in, waving a stick of beef jerky in front of Dean's face, which he stretched out and grabbed, ripping it from between his fingers. He'd never admit how hungry he was, but Sam seemed to know, and left Dean alone for another half hour while he made the only thing he knew Dean would eat: Ramen.

Dean ate it, of course, though kept his head down as though it'd prevent Sam from seeing the immense scarring solidifying across his face, marring him for life, but it didn't work, and it never would.

Sam could never forget when he got the news that Dean's squad had been bombed, nor would he forget when he found out his bother had survived. The excitement had nearly been lost when he saw his face. Dean had stitched-up gashes ripping across his body, tubes filing in and out of what seemed like every orifice, blood-stained skin still visible despite the fact that he'd been flown back to the states and his injuries had occurred days ago.

The most shocking, still, had been his face. There were stitches all across his skin, starting at his temple and working down and across his forehead, wrapping down his nose and around his eye, straight through his cheek to the base of his jaw. He had other minor scrapes and bruises, as well a gash from a corner of his lips to his chin, but that was by far the worst.

He couldn't talk for a week, and the first thing that came out of his mouth was "So how do I look?". It was garbled and more of a mumble than anything, but it was still something.

"Looking good."

Dean had actually tried to go out in public when he was feeling better. His willingness to do so, however, quickly faded. There were stares, and pointing, and no amount of trying to cover himself really worked.

Sam tried to sympathize with him, to feel his pain, but the social stigma of having a fucked-up face would never truly resonate with him, and he was at a loss at how to help Dean. He wanted nothing more than to do so, but there was only so much he could do.

He could still do  _something._

"Right now?" Dean asked once he was finished with his noodles, slurping up the last of the broth.

"If you're okay with that."

"Sammy, you're the computer geek, not me."

"So? Dean, it's easy. You know how to type, right?"

"No."

Sam's eyes narrowed, quirking an eyebrow up, and Dean once again tried to mimic his facial expressions, but it didn't really work. Sam pursed his lips slightly, and he gave in. "Fine."

"It's easy. All you have to do is log in, and then find someone to talk to."

"Someone I don't even know?" Dean put his bowl in the sink, grabbing a glass to fill with water. "Sammy, I don't think anyone's gonna want to talk to me."

"Why not? Dean, you're not gonna see this person, and they're not gonna see you. It's a chat-room. Hell, there might even be more than one person. Who knows?" Dean scoffed and turned to leave to his room, and Sam followed him. "What? You chicken."

"No," Dean said as they entered his room. He set his glass down on his previously empty desk, and sat himself down in front of a new laptop, one that Sam had bought for him while he was out.

He was already logged in to the computer, a generic background and a single folder gracing the desktop. He moved the mouse to open the browser, then turned to look at Sam. "What now?"

"Go to a website."

Dean opened a porn site.

"Not that one."

"Then which one, nimrod?"

"A  _chat-room_."

Dean glared at him. "Yeah, I've got so many of those up my sleeve."

Sam sighed, reaching around Dean to type in a website, one he'd used himself when he was younger. It took a moment, but the dark colored site showed up. It looked modern, so Sam figured it'd work fine. "All you gotta do now is sign up, then sign in. Then you can find a room to enter, and talk to the people in there."

"This sounds dumb."

Sam smacked Dean's shoulder, then felt bad when he hissed. He'd hit the wrong one. "Sorry," he muttered. "But it's not dumb, and you need friends."

"How am I supposed to make friends if I can't even see them?"

Sam pat his shoulder, the safe one this time. "You'll figure it out."

Dean did. It took some time, the site requiring things he didn't even have, like an e-mail, or a so called 'username', but it was eventually all sorted out, and he felt a bit of pride and success at the fact that he hadn't even called Sam in once.

And he felt pretty great about his username.

The site was relatively easy for him to use, but he still wasn't too sure about the people he'd be meeting. Could they  _really_  not see him? He saw the camera on the front of his screen, and covered it with a piece of tape. Just in case.

He tried a few different rooms toward the top of the list, but the chats were flying so fast that no one even noticed him. He was growing weary and tired of trying.

Dean posted on the next open and primarily empty chat-room he found.

**iamdean** hello?

It was a few minutes before someone responded to him. The ping from the notification startled Dean, but he calmed quickly.

**cassienov** Hi.

He wouldn't let himself smile.

**iamdean**  hello

**cassienov** We've established a greeting.

**iamdean**  sorry

**cassienov**  For what?

**iamdean**  for saying hello twice

**cassienov**  That's really not a reason to apologize.

Dean dropped his head down. He was  _really_ bad at this.

**iamdean**  I'm new at this

**cassienov** I can tell.

Dean didn't know how to respond to that. Luckily the other did it for him.

**cassienov** But that's okay. We were all new at one point.

**iamdean**  I'm glad you said it.

**cassienov**  I'd ask your name, but I assume it's Dean.

Dean's eyes widened.

**iamdean**  how'd you know that?

**cassienov**  Uhhh

Dean remembered his username.

**iamdean** oh shit, right.

**cassienov** Haha.

**cassienov** I figure I should tell you mine?

**iamdean** Cassie?

**cassienov** Haha. No. You're close.

**cassienov** Castiel.

Dean said the name aloud to himself.

**iamdean** that's an interesting name

**iamdean**  but not bad

**cassienov**  I'm glad you like it.

**cassienov** So, what are you interested in?

**iamdean** I don't think you'd really care

**cassienov**  Then why would I ask?

And that sparked it.

Dean would never admit that such a simple phrase of genuine interest would be the birth of any sort of friendship to him, but as the minutes went by, and the messages snapped back and forth, he found himself longing to remain in conversation with this person, Castiel, truly enjoying the abstract company he provided him. And for just a moment, he found himself feeling like a normal human once again.

It was about two hours later when it happened.

**cassienov**  I've got to go now.

Dean furrowed his brow, not willing to admit how upset he found himself feeling about it.

**iamdean**  why?

**cassienov**  I have to work.

**iamdean** I thought you were a student?

**cassienov**  I have to pay for it somehow.

**cassienov** If you're interested, we can talk again later?

Dean let a glimpse of a smile grace his lips.

**iamdean** I'd love that

**cassienov** Really?

**iamdean** of course

**cassienov** :)

**cassienov** I'll be on this same chat-room in 7 hours

**iamdean** okay

**iamdean** wait, how do you do that face?

**cassienov** I'll show you later, alright?

**cassienov** Insurance on you showing up again.

**iamdean** okay

**cassienov**  :)

There was a pang as Castiel left the chat-room, and Dean was left with the buzz of a smile and hint of happiness in him, eyes alight for a minute as he watched the screen, unable to believe what just happened.

He'd made a friend.

It took a while for his high to fade off, and he was right back down to feeling mopish. It wasn't as bad as before, oh no. He had something to look forward to, and he couldn't wait for that moment to come, when he'd log back in and speak to this person once again.

He looked at the digital clock in the corner, and found himself yearning for sleep in a sudden onset of drowsiness. But he didn't want to fight it, and crawled himself in to bed, but not before writing a quick note of a pad of paper he found in his desk.

_It's 3p.m. Wake me up in 7 hours._

He knew Sam would find the note when he came to check up on him.

It didn't stop him from nearly ripping off his brother's face when he did exactly what he was asked.

"What the hell, Dean?"

"Why'd you wake me up?"

"You told me to!"

"What time is it?" Dean rubbed his eyes, forgetting his clock was plugged in and that he could actually know the time himself for once.

"Ten."

Dean sat up straight. "What?"

"Seven hours from three. It's ten."

He crawled out of bed as quickly as he could, growing dizzy from standing so fast, but it was a quick hop to his desk, and he was sitting down within a moment, his laptop open, fingers flying away to get on the chat-room.

Sam grinned. "What are you doing?"

"None of your business."

"You make a friend?"

"None of your business."

Sam's grin widened. He was prepared to say something else, but Dean was logging himself in, and he felt he needed his space. He took another moment to watch his brother, and how he seemed happier after less than a day.

He hoped the trend was going to continue.

Dean waited until he heard the sound of Sam's feet disappear behind him and his reflection fade from his screen before he clicked in to the room.

**iamdean**  hello?

**cassienov** I was afraid you wouldn't show.

**iamdean** I keep my promises.

**cassienov**  :)

Dean tucked a leg up on to his chair.

**iamdean** okay how do you do that face?

**cassienov**  Do you really not know?

**iamdean** would I ask if I didn't?

**cassienov** Haha. I guess not.

**cassienov** It's two different keys. Press the : and then the )

**iamdean** ;0

**cassienov**  Not quite.

**cassienov** Press the shift button.

**iamdean** :)

**cassienov** :)

**iamdean** that was fun

**cassienov**  So, what do you want to talk about.

**iamdean**  about anything

**iamdean** I just want to talk

**cassienov** I can do that.

And talk they did. It wasn't until 3am, when Dean realized that Castiel's messages were slowing down, that he was probably tired.

**iamdean** why won't you stop talking to me?

It was a minute before he got a response.

**cassienov**  Why would I?

**iamdean**  because you came home from hours of work and have been talking to me for 5 hours.

**iamdean** shouldn't you be tired?

**cassienov**  So you want me to sleep?

**iamdean** shouldn't you?

It was another few minutes, and Dean was staring intently at his screen, waiting.

**cassienov**  I'm not the best at that.

**iamdean**  at sleeping?

**cassienov**  Yes.

**iamdean**  don't you get tired?

**cassienov**  Yes.

**iamdean**  you just can't sleep?

It was a few minutes longer.

**cassienov**  Exactly.

**iamdean** I used to sing my little brother to sleep

**iamdean** he's not so little anymore

**cassienov**  I wish someone would sing me to sleep.

**cassienov** Though it probably wouldn't work.

**iamdean** I'd sing to you, I just don't anymore

**cassienov** Maybe you will again one day.

**iamdean** maybe I will

**cassienov** I sure hope so.

Dean was smiling a smile he hadn't had on his lips in what felt like years, and his eyes were a kind of soft that only showed up in the sweeter, gentler moments of life, like when you hold hands with someone you like or before a soft kiss shared after a first date, cold air wrapping around your bodies.

He shivered at the realization of what his mind was implying. He didn't feel awful about it.

**iamdean** maybe it'll be for you one day

**cassienov** I'd love that.

**iamdean** me too

His reply didn't come for a while.

**cassienov** :)

**cassienov** I really should try to sleep.

**cassienov** Thank you for the company.

**iamdean** can I talk to you again?

**cassienov** 15 hours sound okay?

**iamdean** so, about 6:30?

**cassienov** We're in the same timezone? Then yes.

**iamdean** I'll talk to you at 6:30 then

**cassienov** Goodnight, Dean.

**iamdean** goodnight, Castiel

The ping of Castiel logging off rang out of Dean's computer, and he clicked himself out. He saw his reflection in the darkened screen, and he nearly winced, but he wouldn't let it bother him tonight. Closing his laptop, he crawled in to his bed. He curled under his sheets, and stared at his clock, counting down the minutes, hour by hour.


	2. Chapter 2

Like a child on Christmas, Dean couldn't close his eyes, excitement rolling through his body. It wasn't official, but he had a friend. He had an outlet, an ear to listen and a voice to entertain. Sam tried, but it wasn't the same. He had someone who didn't know him, his life, his past and his present. All they knew was what Dean told them, and it comforted him to know that.

He finally fell asleep, curled up comfortably.

His sleep wasn't much better, but he woke up without a nightmare for the first time in months and it almost shocked him. It certainly shocked Sam when he walked out on his own, no fighting or arguing about it.

"You're up."

"I am."

"Nightmare?" Sam had a newspaper open on his lap, one hand holding on to an edge with a cup of coffee in the other. He took a sip out of it, watching Dean amble in to the kitchen.

"Not this time."

His eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really, Sammy. Still tired, though."

"You can sleep more if you want, Dean."

Dean sent him a look. "It's after nine.  _Time to wake up_." He smirked when Sam's eyes narrowed, realizing he was being mocked.

" _Time to wake up_ ," he mimicked back, and Dean's smirk turned in to a grin as he poured himself a cup of coffee, moving back to the room where Sam was.

He plopped in to a chair, taking a sip of the bitter concoction. He shook his head, enjoying the jolt. "That's good joe, Sammy."

Sam's lips quirked up. "You're sure chipper."

"It's a good morning."

Sam looked his brother over, taking in his relaxed demeanor and his closed eyes, the cup of coffee pressed to his lips though he wasn't drinking. He couldn't believe that something he'd done was working, even just in the slightest, to help Dean.

"It sure is."

His mood didn't last long, however.

Dean had left to go shower after his coffee, and catching sight of his marred and imperfect reflection in the slowly fogging mirror brought him out of his happier mood and back down in to what he'd been at before.

Sam caught note when he stormed out of the steamy room after about ten minutes, immediately returning to his room where he slammed the door, but not before muttering "Make sure I'm awake by six." to him.

And when he finally got up to see exactly what had happened, he caught sight of the freshly cracked mirror with a shard or two missing toward the center of the fracture, and knew exactly what had happened.

It didn't stop him from waking Dean at six, who was his usually grumpy self. He didn't fight it, however, just grumbling to himself, kicking Sam out on his way to the bathroom. Nothing was broken when he emerged, so Sam counted that as a win.

He was back on his computer when he was done. It was about 15 minutes before their agreed time, but Dean figured he could log in early.

He wasn't expecting a message.

 **cassienov** Dean? Is that you?

His eyes widened.

 **iamdean** It's me

 **iamdean** How long have you been in here?

 **cassienov**  A while. I was hoping you'd show up early.

 **iamdean** I wish I would have known. I could have been on sooner

 **cassienov** It's perfectly okay

 **iamdean** Good :)

 **cassienov** :)You're actually capitalizing today.

Dean grinned.

 **iamdean** am i?

 **cassienov** Dean.

 **iamdean** Sorry.

 **cassienov** It's okay.

 **cassienov** So, what did you do today?

 **iamdean** Nothing, really. I drank some great coffee.

 **cassienov** Is that all?

 **iamdean** And I broke a mirror.

It was a few minutes before Castiel responded, which made him nervous.

 **cassienov** Why'd you do that?

He swallowed, fingers hovering over the black keys, almost unsure of what to type.

 **iamdean** I didn't like what I saw.

 **cassienov** Do you not like how you look?

 **iamdean** Not anymore.

 _Why was he sharing this?_ He thought to himself, wanting to just delete this part of their conversation. This isn't where he wanted it to go. Not yet.

 **cassienov**  Why not? I bet you're handsome.

Dean scoffed at the prospect.

 **iamdean** Hardly.

 **cassienov** What do you look like?

Dean didn't know how to respond. His fingers ached to, but his mind screamed at him no, and he was frozen, unable to move.

 **cassienov** I'm sorry. Maybe it was too soon to ask.

 **cassienov** Would you like to see what I look like?

 **iamdean** If you're okay with sharing.

It was a few minutes, but Dean was sent a photo.

 **cassienov** [photo]

He was handsome. More so, even than that. Dean was instantly attracted to him, his eyes, and his gentle smile, and how ruffled his hair was in an unnaturally natural way. He swallowed, fingers hovering above the keys once more.

 **iamdean** You're very attractive

 **cassienov**  Thank you.

 **cassienov** I'm sure you're much better.

 **iamdean** Not even close.

 **cassienov** And how would I know?

 **iamdean** I enjoy talking to you.

 **iamdean** Please don't ruin it.

 **cassienov** I'm sorry.

Dean felt a wave of relief flood through him, and he felt his muscles relax as he slumped back in his chair.

But he felt bad. Castiel had been willing to share himself so fast and Dean couldn't even muster up the courage to say  _why_ he felt so bad about himself. The other man deserved something.

 **iamdean** For the record, I have dark blond hair, and green eyes, and some weird freckles, and a nose.

 **cassienov** I'm glad to know you can breathe without the use of your mouth.

 **iamdean** Haha.

 **cassienov** For the record, you still sound incredibly handsome to me.

 **iamdean** If you insist.

 **iamdean** So, what have you done today?

And like that it was dropped, and they were back on their way in a conversation, Castiel talking about his day, and a book he was reading. The topic was brought to the war, and Dean mentioned his time served, leaving out the most important and defining part for him, but he figured Castiel could do without the gore and horrifying mental image of his now warped face and body, scarring whatever feelings he could potentially be developing in the day that they'd known each other.

And it went on that way for days, days turning in to weeks. They talked, and talked, unable to control themselves, hold back the desire for each other's company despite never actually physically communicating, their entire relationship stored in digital files and in memories kept for a perhaps soon-to-be important date.

It was their first contact for the day.

 **cassienov**  I'd like to talk to you, Dean.

Dean cocked his head at the message.

 **iamdean** About what?

 **cassienov**  About anything. I just want to talk to you.

 **iamdean** Do we not already do that?

 **cassienov** No, I mean, physically.

Dean stilled.

 **iamdean** I can't meet you. Not in person.

 **cassienov** Do you know what skype is?

Dean googled it, but quit at the mention of 'video'.

 **iamdean**  I can't do that. You can't see me. You can't.

He knew he sounded desperate, and slightly terrifying, like some sociopathic blood-covered serial killer, and he himself wondered what he was truly hiding from Castiel for a minute, but shrugged it off and went on with keeping himself hidden for now. He pressed his thumb over the tape across the camera, making sure it was still on solidly.

 **cassienov** They have a phone part. It's just voice, Dean.

 **cassienov** I want to hear you talk. Your voice

 **iamdean** Isn't that what phones are for?

 **cassienov** Do you really want some person you've never personally met to have your phone number?

 **iamdean** You have a point.

 **iamdean** I'll get skype.

He was terrified as he clicked download on the site, the loading bar filling quickly, the application opening on its own after he got Sam to install it for him. He signed up and logged in, finding Castiel's contact.

He waited for him to make the first move.

It was a few minutes, but his laptop began to ring, a bubble popping up to alert him of a call.

He tapped accept.

"Hello?"

"Dean?"

The voice on the other end was deep, much deeper than he anticipated, and as clear as Dean could have imagined it to be over the internet.

"Castiel?"

The other man's voice sounded softer, relaxed. "Dean. Hello."

"Hi."

"You even sound attractive." Dean let out half of a shy laugh, and Castiel cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, that was forward of me."

"It's alright. Your voice isn't too bad itself. Deeper than I thought it'd be."

"I get that a lot."

"I mean, aren't you only twenty-two?"

"I get that a lot, too."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to do with his body. "Sorry."

"It's okay."

They were quiet, unsure of how to continue. It was so new to be doing this, actually speaking.

Dean swallowed, huffing out a laugh. "It's nice to know that you're real. Like, an actual man."

"I feel the same. I was worried you were pretending, at least for a little bit."

"I am."

"You're real, aren't you?"

"I guess."

"Then you're not pretending. Unless you're a twelve-year old with a very deep voice." Dean laughed, and he could practically feel the other's smile when he continued. "Your laugh is sweet."

Dean smiled. "I haven't heard yours."

"It's not very nice."

"I wouldn't know that, would I?"

The other man chuckled. It was deep, and Dean figured his actual laugh would be much louder. "I guess not."

"Maybe I'll hear it later."

And he did. They talked for hours, Dean wandering around his room, flopping on his bed and the floor, feeling like a teenager on the phone with his crush, which essentially, he was.

"It's infectious," Castiel said between his laughs.

"What is?"

"Your laugh."

"Mine?" Dean asked, smiling for longer than he had in a long time.

"Yours."

"Are you flirting with me, Castiel?"

"Only if you want me to be."

Dean grinned. "I do."

There was a pause.

"Dean, I have class soon."

His face fell. "So, you have to go?"

"I do."

"Maybe we can talk later?"

"You know that I'll be on. We can just talk on skype now. It's like private chatting."

"Was our other one not?"

"Not technically. Just no one ever joined us. Except that one porn guy."

"Oh. I thought that was you sharing a video you liked." Castiel laughed, and Dean shrugged. "I guess I can use this."

"Okay. I'll talk to you later then, alright?"

"Alright."

He could hear his smile. "Bye."

"Bye, Castiel."

They continued talking, day in and day out. It took a noticeable effect on Dean, brightening his normally damp and dark mood, and Sam noticed completely. Dean was out of his room more, and though he usually just popped back in, he'd actually talk to Sam now, a conversation rather than snarky remarks and grumbles.

He enjoyed this Dean. He was more like his old self, and he rarely even seemed to remark on his scars anymore, at least not verbally, and it definitely showed in how he acted.

And Dean was happy. He finally had a friend who accepted him regardless of his scars (let alone even knowing about them) and actually have feelings for him, in a way at least slightly above platonic.

It was all he could ever ask for.

**-x-x-x-**

It was February.

 **cassienov** You seem upset, Dean.

 **iamdean** It's nothing.

It wasn't nothing. It was the day before Valentines Day, and he'd never felt quite so alone. He'd spent the last two deployed, and before that, he could go out and get any girl or boy he damn well pleased, take them out and then take them home for the night, but not now.

 **cassienov** It obviously is.

 **cassienov** Please tell me.

 **iamdean** It's stupid

 **iamdean** I really don't want to talk about it.

 **cassienov** I think that we should.

He wasn't going to drop it.

 **iamdean** I'm… lonely.

 **cassienov** You have me.

 **iamdean** Physically lonely.

 **iamdean** I have nobody this Valentines. I want… I don't know.

 **cassienov** To be touched, and held, and kissed, and loved?

Dean shook his head, but he was right.

 **iamdean** Pretty much.

 **cassienov** I'd hold you, Dean.

 **cassienov** I'd kiss you too.

 **cassienov** I'd love you right, even if it's just for the day.

Dean was biting the inside of his lip.

 **iamdean** What…

 **iamdean** What would you do to me?

 **cassienov** I'd romance you. I'd take you out to dinner, and hold your hand as we walked back to my place, where I'd keep it dark and light candles or the fireplace, just to set the mood.

 **cassienov** Whichever one you'd like more.

 **cassienov** And I'd kiss you, Dean.

 **cassienov** It'd start with touches. I'd run my fingers over your arm, or over your thigh, and when you'd warmed up to me, I'd kiss you.

 **cassienov** I'd let you touch me how you wanted, and guide me where you needed. Listen to your wants, and your desires.

 **cassienov** I'd give you a night to remember, Dean. And hopefully, many more after that.

Dean had been watching each message pop up, his fingers fiddling aimlessly with his shirt sleeve. He didn't deserve what Castiel was saying to him. No one would do that with him now. He wasn't lovable, not like that.

 **iamdean** That's a lie.

There was ringing from his speakers a minute later, and he picked up.

"No it's not."

Dean shook his head. "Why would you do that to me?"

"Wouldn't you want that?"

"I don't deserve it."

"And why not?"

"Because…" He didn't know what to say. He knew why he didn't deserve it, but he didn't want to scare Castiel away. He didn't want to lose him before he even had him. "Because I'm fucked up," he put simply. "Because no one could ever love me, or care for me, like that."

"I could."

"Please stop."

They both fell silent, and Dean felt lost, hopelessly floating away from everything with his body but his mind sinking down. He wanted it. He wanted it so bad. But he knew he couldn't have it, and he never would.

"I… I'm sorry, Dean. I can go."

"Please don't."

"Then what do you want from me?"

"Tell me why I deserve it?"

"Because you're nice, Dean. And sweet, and an amazing story teller. Because you play music for me when I can't sleep, or talk to me aimlessly until I do. Because you are genuinely curious about how I feel, and how my day went. You care so much. It'd be impossible for someone like you to not deserve all of the basic things life and love have to offer."

Dean felt like crying. He wasn't going to, oh no, but he felt like it. Pressure was building behind his eyes, and he felt like throwing up. He'd tricked him. He'd tricked someone as nice as Castiel in to believing that he was something good, something normal, something deserving of love. He was fucked up, more physically than mentally, but still a bit in each way.

He shook his head, wanting to speak, but he couldn't.

"Dean?"

His voice was quiet. "Cas…"

He could hear the gentle smile in the other's voice, and it calmed him a minute degree. "I like it. That nickname."

"…I'm glad…"

It was a few minutes before Castiel replied, but it wasn't awkward. "I have a question for you, Dean."

"Okay."

He received a ping from their chat, and he went to check it.

 **cassienov** [picture]

Dean opened it.

Castiel was sitting in the middle of a frame of hearts he'd clearly added after he'd taken the picture, a large construction paper heart formed out of multiple pieces of paper taped together in front of his body, a gentle smile with slightly crooked lips and soft eyes gracing his sharp facial features.

The heart had the words "Will you be my Valentine?" scrawled across it in permanent marker.

Dean let out a laugh that sounded more like a broken sob. He nodded to himself. "Yes. Yes, but only if you'll be mine."

"I wouldn't want to be anybody else's."

They didn't get off the phone all night, staying up as late as either one of them could manage.

"I don't want to hang up," Castiel said at about 4am.

"Then don't."

"But I need to sleep."

"Then sleep."

"I don't think I could, not if I hung up on you."

"Would it be better if I stayed on?"

Dean was laying on his bed, his laptop dragged as close to him as it could go while still being on a solid surface. He hoped Castiel was doing the same.

"Maybe. It'd be better if you were here."

"Someday, Cas. I promise."

"I'm holding you to that."

"I'd hope you would." He took a deep breath. "Cas, lay down on your bed."

"I already am."

He felt a surge of success roll through him at being right. "Okay. Now, pretend I'm there. Imagine I'm laying in your bed. Your head is on my chest as you lay beside me, and you rise and fall with each breath I take. I'm holding one of your hands, my other one is in your hair, gently stroking it."

"That sounds so nice."

"Are you imagining it? I'm putting effort in to thinking this up."

"It'd be hard not to."

"Okay. Now keep imagining it, Cas. Try to relax yourself. I'll sing to you."

"You'll sing to me?"

"Only if you promise to try and sleep."

"I promise."

"Okay." Dean took a deep breath, steadying himself, allowing Castiel to fall into a more relaxed state. He hoped he was doing that.

It was quiet, and he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I… I don't know what to sing to you."

"Anything, Dean. Just sing. Please."

He cleared his throat. "I could stay awake, just to hear you breathing / Watch you smile while you are sleeping / while you're far away, and dreaming."

Castiel laughed quietly, and Dean grinned. "Hey, you need to be trying to sleep."

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry."

Dean smiled fondly, giving Castiel another moment to relax before continuing. "I could spend my life, in this sweet surrender / I could stay lost in this moment forever / Where every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure…"

He paused, waiting for any sort of response from Castiel. He heard some shuffling, so he continued. "Don't want to close my eyes / I don't want to fall asleep cause I'd miss you babe / and I don't want to miss a thing / Cause even when I dream of you / the sweetest dream will never do / I'd still miss you babe / and I don't want to miss a thing."

"You have such a nice voice."

"Goddamn it, Cas."

"I'm sorry!" he laughed. "I'll try for real this time. I promise."

Dean was weary, but he really didn't care. He swallowed, preparing to continue. "Lying close to you / feeling your heart beating / And I'm wondering what you're dreaming /wondering if it's me you're seeing / Then I kiss your eyes / and thank God we're together / I just want to stay with you in this moment forever…

"I don't want to close my eyes / I don't want to fall asleep cause I'd miss you babe / and I don't want to miss a thing / Cause even when I dream of you / the sweetest dream will never do / I'd still miss you babe, and I don't want to miss a thing."

He'd been picturing it in his mind as he sang the song. Laying with Castiel in his bed, holding him close. Loving him. It was the best thing he'd ever imagined and he wanted it more than anything.

He paused, wanting to talk to Castiel again, but he didn't hear a response. He figured he could continue anyway, even if just for himself.

"I don't want to miss one smile / I don't want to miss one kiss / I just want to be with you / right here with you / just like this / I just want to hold you close / feel your heart so close to mine / and just stay here in this moment for all the rest of time…"

It was true.

"I don't want to close my eyes / I don't want to fall asleep cause I'd miss you babe / and I don't want to miss a thing / Cause even when I dream of you / the sweetest dream will never do / I'd still miss you babe / and I don't want to miss a thing…"

He fell quiet, and he didn't hear anything from the other end. "Cas?" he asked quietly, hopefully not too loud to wake him up if he had actually fallen asleep.

"Yeah?"

Dean sighed, though he wasn't entirely disappointed that he was still awake. "Why aren't you asleep?"

"Because it's hard."

"Was my song not relaxing enough?"

"No, no. It was so nice, Dean. It's just… It's making me want you."

"I want you, too."

"I want you here," he said. Dean could hear him shuffling around on his sheets. "I… I just really want you here."

"I wish I could hold you," Dean said, rolling on his side to face his laptop. "I'm so lonely." He felt embarrassed about his confession, but he knew Castiel wouldn't care, that he probably felt the same. "But you make it better. Thank you, Cas."

"No," Castiel said. "Thank you, Dean." It was quiet between them for a minute. Castiel laughed. "It's so dumb."

"What?"

"That I'm falling for a man I've never seen before."

Dean grimaced, his throat tightening to the point where it hurt, a strain starting under his jaw and working up to his ear, the pressure building behind his eyes again. He didn't deserve Castiel, and he felt awful that he was dragging him into the feelings built off of false pretenses. He knew he was wasting his time, and he also knew that he'd find out just  _how_ much of a waste it had been when he finally sees his face, and his body, and all of the fucked up things he had contained and hidden from him behind the screen of a laptop.

"You should stop that."

"I don't want to."

Dean's eyes watered. "I don't want you to either," he admitted.

"Then I won't." He could hear Castiel shifting around. "Will you sing to me again? I promise I'll try to sleep."

"Of course. Uhh, before you fall asleep… Uhh, goodnight, Valentine."

There was a pause where he assumed Castiel was smiling. "Goodnight, Valentine."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there's not photos. I can't put them in on FF and am also too lazy to actually find some.


	3. Chapter 3

It was lightning, sharp sparks and bright flashes as they fell harder and harder for each other. Each conversation, each song, each message shared between the two of them was tying them even tighter together.

"It's your birthday today, isn't it?"

"Tomorrow," Castiel said, and Dean grimaced. He thought for sure he was right. "But because it's Halloween, my friends wanted to have a party for me today"

"Really?"

"They always do. I'm assuming it's just going to be a Halloween party at some club with cake, but it's the thought that counts."

"Are you dressing up?"

Castiel laughed. "I am."

"Really?"

"Mhmm. And what about you, Dean? Are you going to dress up? Put on some makeup and have a good time?"

Dean chuckled. "I don't see the point. I'm not going out."

"But it's fun!"

"If you say so."

"I do."

"Do you like dressing up?"

"I love it."

"What are you being this year?"

Castiel hummed. "I haven't chosen. It's either a fireman or a criminal."

"A criminal?"

"Yeah. Do you want to see?"

"I, uhh… Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"Okay." Castiel was smiling, Dean could tell. "I have to go to class, and then give me some time to finish getting it ready… I'll tell you when I'm ready?"

"Okay. You leaving to class?"

"I probably need to."

"Go," Dean said. "Who knows. Maybe I'll put on a costume."

Castiel laughed. "Really?"

"Not a chance."

Another laugh. "Okay. I'll talk to you later."

"See ya, Cas."

Castiel was back in a few hours.

 **cassienov** Are you ready?

 **iamdean** I guess.

There was a ringing from the speakers. A bubble popped up, and he clicked it shut.

 **iamdean** I'm not video chatting.

 **cassienov** Oh, come on.

 **cassienov** How else am I supposed to show you?

 **iamdean** A picture?

 **cassienov** No.

 **cassienov** Video chat me, come on.

 **iamdean** No.

 **cassienov** Please let me see you.

Dean swallowed hard. It was such a risk for him to take. So much could be riding on this, and he'd never know until he tried, and that was the most terrifying aspect of it all.

He swallowed again.

 **iamdean** Fine. Okay.

 **cassienov** Really?

 **iamdean** Just give me a second to take the tape off of the camera.

He was in the process of rubbing off the residue from the tape when the ringing was back for the second time that day.

His stomach fell down deep, deeper than he thought he had room for, and he could barely even release the effort he needed to click 'accept' on the call. He was frozen, and his insides shook hard.

He finally clicked answer.

It was a moment before the screen in front of him lit up, Castiel's face filling the rectangle.

The image was about as clear as Dean anticipated it to be, and he wasn't disappointed. Castiel looked just like the picture he'd sent when they'd first met, and he felt simultaneous shocks of both relief and terror roll through him.

Castiel met his expectations. Would Dean meet his?

"Woah."

Dean's heart sank.

"What?"

"I thought you said you weren't doing anything for Halloween!?"

 _What?_ "What?"

"Your makeup! That's so cool!"

He finally understood. He thought his scars were fake. He swallowed, prepared to tell him the truth, but he looked so happy and incredibly alight and excited. He didn't have the heart to take that away for a more somber tone.

He smiled. "Thanks."

"That scar is amazing. How'd you do it?"

Dean had to bite back a laugh. "It was painful," he said truthfully.

"I bet," he responded, not truly understanding what Dean had meant.

Dean changed the subject. "But we're not here for me. Come on, Cas. Show me your costume."

Castiel beamed. "Okay, but give me a second. I have an entrance. Oh, by the way? You're really handsome, Dean."

He disappeared from the screen with a final smile, but Dean barely even noticed.

Handsome.

He thought he was handsome.

He felt the pressure behind his eyes again, but he shook his head. He wasn't going to cry about it. He  _wasn't_.

Luckily, Castiel was back in the shot quickly, his wrists bound behind his back loosely, which was graced by a ripped open black and white shirt torn haggardly down the front. He had on matching pants that looked to be a size too big, the waistband clutching dangerously low on his hips. He had on a hat, and a black mask across his eyes.

He grinned. "What do you think?" He turned around slowly.

Dean was staring with wide eyes. "You look super hot."

"Really?"

"I'd bail you out."

Castiel laughed, walking back to his desk. He sat down, taking off his mask. "Thanks. I like this one but the shirt won't stay on."

"I can't imagine why."

Castiel laughed again, and his shoulders shook. Dean could see his collar bones below his long neck, and wanted nothing more than to just attack and lavish that whole area. He licked his lips.

"I have the firefighter one, too. You want to see it?"

"I'd be stupid if I didn't."

Castiel winked at him and left.

"You ready?" he called from off screen a few minutes later.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Castiel walked out in low slung and very loose fire-pants held up only by red and yellow suspenders and absolutely nothing else on but a hat and some boots. He had black streaks across his cheekbones.

That's why.

Dean stared at him. "Fuck…" he muttered, unable to look away from the deep v of his hips.

Castiel smirked. "Like what you see?"

"I would take you right now, on your bed, and fuck those perfect little hips of yours…"

Castiel's eyes widened in pleasant shock, but Dean was gone, lost in a trance.

"You'd fuck me?" Castiel asked, stepping to the computer. He gave Dean a good look at his hips before he sat down.

Dean just nodded. "Or you could fuck me. I don't care. I just want my hands on you."

Castiel was thinking. "Dean, what are you doing tonight?"

He shook his head. "I don't know."

"Come to my party. Come meet me. In person. I… I really want you."

Dean was frozen. He didn't want to go. Scratch that. He  _couldn't_ go. Not like this. He shook his head but he didn't want to say no. "I… I don't know…"

Castiel sighed, but didn't push it. "Well, I'll give you the address my friend Anna gave me. If you show up, then you show up. And if you don't… Then I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"I'll think about it."

He smiled faintly. "I need to finish getting ready. I… I really hope I see you tonight, Dean."

Then he was gone. Dean felt himself relax despite being disappointed at losing sight of the other. There was a ping from their chat, and then another when he logged out.

Dean stared at the address Castiel had just sent, contemplating and arguing about it in his head, unsure of what to do. He wanted to meet Castiel,  _God_ did he want that. But a simple touch to his face brought him out of it. He couldn't see Castiel like this. He absolutely cou-

He paused. Makeup. Castiel had thought it was  _makeup_. He dragged his fingers down his scars again, and nodded to himself.

"Sammy," he said, making his way out of his room. "I need your help."

Sam looked away from the TV. "With?"

"I'm going to a Halloween party."

"What?" Sam was interested. He turned on to his knees, digging them in to the couch as he watched Dean over the back.

"I'm going to a Halloween party," Dean repeated. "To see a guy. I… Yeah. To see a guy."

"The one you've been talking to?"

Dean nodded, stepping in to the bathroom. He turned on the shower. "I need a costume. Make me… Frankenstein, or something.

"You mean the monster?"

"You know what I mean," he said, shutting the door.

Sam had something for him when he came out. Dean looked at it strange. "What is that?"

"An outfit? Dean, it was the best I could pull up in twenty minutes."

He took it from him, stalking back in to the steamy bathroom.

It was a nice fitting suit costume that made him look like a mobster. He smirked, putting on the hat. "I look good, Sammy," he said, stepping out of the bathroom. "But what am I?"

"Think hard."

Dean looked over his body. "Badly scarred Scarface?"

Sam looked almost guilty. "I figured you might like that a bit more. If it's offens-"

"-I like it, Sam. It's okay."

Sam smiled. "I hope you have fun, Dean."

"Me too."

"You nervous?"

Dean had some time, so he sat down. "Very. Sam, you should see him. He's… wow. And I'm… no. And I… I hope this doesn't mess it up."

"Has he ever seen you before?"

"Just today."

"Then it won't be a problem!"

"He thinks my scars were fake. You know, Halloween makeup."

"They're not that bad, Dean."

"Then why did everyone point and stare, Sam? Huh?" Sam fell silent, and Dean dragged his hand down his face "I'm sorry, but pretending like they aren't a detriment to me isn't helping at all."

"Okay. When do you need to be there?"

"Whenever I'm ready. The party's kind of far away, so…" He shrugged, and Sam nodded.

"Call me if you need anything, Dean. And…" he laughed. "Be safe."

Dean grinned. "You're not my mom," he said, hopping up. "I'll see ya, Sammy."

"Bye Dean."

The party  _was_ far away. Much farther than Dean had assumed it would be, but it gave him time to try and calm his nerves. It didn't really work, his stomach tightening into even tighter knots every mile closer he came to the address he'd been given.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't do this. He couldn't do this.

But he continued driving despite his internal struggles.

Getting out of his car was a different story. He was parked in a lot beside the club, and he could see lights flashing inside. The music wasn't quite audible, so he was hopeful that he'd have the opportunity to actually talk to Castiel if he could actually get himself out of his car.

He finally did it. He wasn't weak. He wouldn't let the terror beat him over again. He slammed his door behind him, and stalked over to the club, his falsified confidence falling the closer he got to the entrance.

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. What am I doing?" he muttered to himself, smacking his forehead. "Oh god. Oh fuck. Shit fuck shitty fucking shit shit god- Hi." He stopped in front of the bouncer, who was really just a young girl with crazy hair and glittery makeup on.

"Hi!" she said with a grin. "You want in?"

Dean nodded. "That's why I'm here."

She scanned her eyes over his body. "Well, you've certainly got the costume. Scarface?" Dean nodded. "Nice. Now all you need it to take this-" she slid an orange shot toward him. "-and not spit it up."

Dean picked it up, bringing it to his nose. He smelled it, the sweet and fruity aroma causing him to wince, but he took it anyway.

He gagged. "Holy shit!" he coughed. "What the fuck is in that?"

"Fruit juices and everclear." Dean squeezed his eyes shut tight, shaking his head and she laughed. "You can head on in," she said, gesturing to the door. "You're a good sport."

"Thanks," Dean muttered out, clearing his throat as he passed her on his way in. It went over his head, barely even noticing that it had been his first personal contact with a human besides Sam in months. He was handed a free drink, but he didn't care. He was on a mission. He didn't have time for a distraction.

The lights were still flashing, but had been right in assuming that the music wasn't as loud as most clubs. All he wanted was to see, however, so it wasn't much of a trade-off. He scanned his eyes up and down the floor, looking for Castiel.

His heart stopped when he saw him. He was dancing near the middle of the floor, a neon drink in his hand, his fireman's hat angled awkwardly on his head, his hips gyrating to the beat of the song.

A girl, Dean assumed a friend, tossed some bills at him, and he laughed, not stopping his hips to take a drink.

Dean was entranced. He was walking numbly toward the dance floor, downing the strong drink he'd been handed on the way. He placed it down on the last table he passed, his eyes locked solidly on Castiel, not stopping until he got to him.

He hesitated for half a moment, but shook his head and stepped up behind him, grabbing his hips.

"Hi," he whispered in his ear, pressing up against him. No going back now.

Castiel gasped. "Dean?"

"It's me."

Castiel relaxed back in to him almost immediately, and Dean was amazed at how easily he accepted it, not even looking back to see his face, to check that he was who he said he was. But he didn't really care. Castiel's hips were rocking from side to side against his own, causing him to fall in to rhythm.

Dean slid his hands forward across Castiel's bare stomach and under his suspenders, fingers trembling at the touch. He was feeling him, holding him in some way, and Castiel wasn't fleeing, wasn't shirking away from his touch. He dipped his head down, nuzzling closer, his lips resting against the convex of his neck and shoulder.

Castiel covered Dean's hands with his own after dropping his empty glass on the ground, moving one up his body to rest below his ribs, the other sliding lower down on his hips.

"You came," he said, eyes still shut as he tipped his head back to rest on Dean's shoulder.

"I couldn't resist."

"Are you nervous?"

Dean pressed his hands harder in to Castiel, his body solid under his palms. "Are you?"

"Of course," he replied. "But I've been wanting this for months." The song ended, and Castiel took the chance he got with the quick break in music to turn in Dean's arms, wrapping his own around him, nuzzling his face in to his neck, hugging him as his hips began to rock again. "It just feels too good to really care about being nervous."

Dean brought a hand up to the back of Castiel's shoulder, the other down to the low small of his back, almost on his ass. "It feels good?"

"I've been wanting you since Valentines, Dean." He kissed his neck, and Dean shivered at how soft his lips were. "And now I have you here. I have you right in my grasp…" He kissed higher up on Dean's neck before sliding back just enough to look at Dean's face.

Dean smiled lightly at him. "You're so much better in person."

"You too." He kissed his jaw, and Dean shivered again. "Do you want to go back to my place?"

"I'd love to."

Castiel smiled and stepped back, taking hold of Dean's hand, leading him through the club and outside. "I'll call a ca-"

"-I have a car."

Dean regretted driving the moment they were out of the lot. Castiel was insatiable. It started with him holding his hand, then kissing up his arm. Soon he was in the middle seat, kissing up Dean's neck, sucking on his earlobe.

Dean had never been so turned on in his life.

"Cas, I'm trying to drive here."

"And I'm trying to get with you."

Dean pulled off the side of the road. "And you'll have me." Castiel was kissing up his neck, and Dean had to nudge him away, locking his finger under his chin, tilting his face up. "Slow down, baby. We'll have all the time in the world in a bit." He rubbed his thumb a few times across his chin. "Okay?"

"Okay."

Castiel still didn't stop while he was driving, still kissing at his neck, but after a while, Dean stopped complaining.

He pulled up outside of Castiel's house, and Castiel was pushing him out of the car and then dragging him toward his house the second the car was shut off.

He pinned him to the door the second they were inside. "I want you so bad, Dean."

"I want you, too," Dean said, kissing Castiel's cheek, then the corner of his lips, letting Castiel grind himself up against him as he pleased.

"I'm so fucking horny."

Dean was turned on too, but he wasn't feeling it. It didn't feel  _right_. It didn't feel like how he'd imagined it to feel for the past few months. It didn't feel like it had earlier that night, when they'd first met. "Cas, we should stop."

Dean was scared by how ferocious Castiel's eyes turned in a flip of a second. "Why? I don't want to."

"I've waited so long for you," Dean said. "I want it to be good. Sober."

"And it's not now?"

"Not unless you usually grind like you're trying to polish rocks."

That got to him. Castiel froze his hips, staring up at Dean for a moment before dropping his head down on Dean's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said. "I drank too much. I was just… so nervous."

"Hey, hey, hey," Dean said, and Castiel looked up. Dean noticed the black streaks on his cheekbones were smudged. "I'm nervous, too. But you know what? You're amazing. Just being with you is worth all of the nerves, and stomach-churning worry. Just touching you is calming me down." He cupped Castiel's cheeks. "Please tell me you're feeling the same way."

Castiel nodded. "I am. I… I am."

"Cas?" Castiel snapped his eyes back up to him. "Let me be good to you. Let me take you back to your room, and hold you, and sing to you, and be good to you. Please."

"Please…" Castiel repeated back as his response, nuzzling in to Dean's neck again

"Where's your room?" Dean asked.

Castiel pulled away to lead him in to it, pointing at the bed as he walked to his bathroom, reemerging a few minutes later with the black streaks washed off his face and only a pair of boxers gracing his hips. He smiled at Dean, who had his arms open as he sat on his bed, and ambled over to him, immediately curling in to him, nestled between his legs.

He kissed the top of his head. "You're so…" He laughed at himself. "You're so gorgeous, Cas."

Castiel nuzzled closer to him, grabbing one of Dean's hands. "You're very nice to me, Dean."

Dean kissed his hair again. "What do you want me to do?"

"Sing to me?"

"What song?"

Castiel let his head rest on Dean's chest. "Whatever you want. Just sing to me."

Dean cleared his throat, threading his fingers with Castiel's, his other hand holding on to his hips, his thumb rubbing small circles.

/Love me tender, love me sweet, never let me go / You have made my life complete, and I love you so / Love me tender, love me true / All my dreams fulfilled / For my darling I love you, and I always will/

"I love Elvis," Castiel muttered.

"Who doesn't?"

They both chuckled, and Dean continued.

"Love me tender, Love me long, take me to your heart / For it's there that I belong, and well never part / Love me tender, love me dear, tell me you are mine / I'll be yours through all the years, till the end of time/ When at last my dreams come true / Darling this I know / Happiness will follow you / Everywhere you go /"

"That was so sweet, Dean."

"Did you like it?"

"I loved it."

He kissed the top of his head. "I'm glad."

Castiel looked up at him. "Are you going to stay the night?"

His eyes were pleading, and Dean felt a horrible guilt build up in him with his answer. "I can't."

Castiel looked hurt. "Why not? Don't you want to stay with me?"

"God, of course I do, Cas. Of course I do. I just… can't."

"Why not? You can change, and wash off your makeup, and come sleep with me."

Dean stilled at the mention of his makeup, which he didn't have on. He shook his head. "I have to help Sam with something in the morning, and you live so far away…" he lied.

"Would you have left me if we'd had sex?"

"Not while you were awake…" Dean knew he was digging himself in to a hole. He just hoped he wasn't messing anything up.

"You'd let me wake up alone?"

"But I'd hold you close as you fell asleep, and make you feel loved and cared for as long as I was there."

"I'll miss you in the morning," he said as he curled in to Dean, shifting himself to wrap his arms around him.

"You can talk to me still."

Castiel laughed. "Tonight's going to seem like a dream."

"It sort of was."

"Please tell me this is real."

"It's real, Cas."

He kissed Dean's chest through his clothes. "I sure hope so."

They didn't say anything else, and Dean wouldn't leave until Castiel was asleep. He was extra careful to lay him down without waking him, kissing his forehead and writing him a note before leaving.

Sam was confused when he came home. "I thought for sure you'd stay."

"Then why are you awake?"

Dean was cold and lonely, and Sam had nothing else to add, so he retreated to his room, flopping down on his bed, passing out in his costume.

He shed his clothes when he awoke, turning on his computer before stalking to the bathroom.

There was a message when he came back.

 **cassienov** Last night was unreal, and so quick, I'm unsure if it really happened. But my bed smells like you, and there's a note on my counter, and I thought I knew what it was like to be lonely, but it's nothing compared to how I feel right now.

The message had been sent when Dean was asleep, and he didn't know if Castiel was online, but he responded.

 **iamdean** I promise you it was real. I still feel your body against mine, and the kiss your lips pressed against my neck. I want you here, with me. I want to hold you again, and sing to you, and smell your cologne as we cuddle…

 **cassienov** I want that too.

 **iamdean** You're awake.

 **cassienov** I am.

Dean called him.

"Yes?"

"Cas, I'm sorry I couldn't stay," Dean admitted. "I wanted to, and I missed you the whole ride home."

"At least you didn't fall asleep with someone just to wake up alone."

"I didn't get the pleasure of the first one."

"And you didn't get the pain of the second."

"I'm sorry."

Castiel sighed, and Dean could hear him rub his face. "I need to see you again. I need  _you_ again."

Dean shook his head. "I can't."

"What do you mean you can't?" Castiel sounded pissed.

"I mean… I can't."

"You just said you wanted me. How can you  _not_ see me?"

"Because I can't."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Why?"

"Because I'm fucked up, Cas!" Dean blurted out, dropping his head in to his hands. "I'm fucked up, and you won't want me once you see the real me."

"I saw the real you last night, and I loved him, and I want him back!"

"Well you're not going to get him! You're never going to get him."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I can't see you."

Castiel scoffed, his end of the line quiet. His voice was barely audible when he spoke. "So, what? This is it? You lead me on, meet me in person, make me fall in love with you, then you leave me out in the cold?"

Dean didn't know how to respond. He wanted Castiel. He wanted him more than anything. But he couldn't have him. He felt a tugging deep within, and he curled in on himself. He felt tears welling up behind his eyes the more he thought; the more he realized that this  _was_ the end. He couldn't keep doing this to Castiel, and as much as he wanted to keep him, he had to let him go.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, clicking out of the call.

 **cassienov** What do you mean, Dean  
 **cassienov**  Dean?  
 **cassienov**  Please respond to me.  
 **cassienov**  Dean, I don't want to lose you.

He called a few times, and Dean clicked out of each one.

 **cassienov**  Dean, please.  
 **cassienov**  Please.  
 **cassienov**  I'm going to cry.  
 **cassienov**  I can't lose you, Dean. I don't… I can't.  
 **cassienov**  I need you.  
 **cassienov**  Please, we can fix this. Whatever this is, we can fix it.

He called a few more times, but Dean couldn't handle watching it happen anymore. He knew how bad he was hurting him, he could feel it in his heart, the sudden longing tugging at every inch of his being as the tears fell freely from his eyes.

He didn't want to, but he had to.

He clicked out of the final call from Castiel, then logged out of his skype, closing the application and crawling back in to bed, curling around his pillow, sobbing until he felt he couldn't do so anymore.

Then he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoomp, there it is.


	4. Chapter 4

He looked like hell when he finally woke up, and he had to force himself to stay away from his laptop. All he could do was walk out to the kitchen, grab a glass to fill with water, drink it, and then go back to bed.

And that was his routine for the next few weeks. Nothing could keep him from contacting Castiel besides that, and he was actually grateful that he hadn't given Castiel his cell number. He'd never be able to ignore him, and he'd trap the poor man in a relationship far below a standard he deserved.

Sam took notice, but there wasn't much he could do or get out of Dean.

He was lucky one night.

"Dean, what happened?"

It was about 2am, and Dean stumbled out of his room to go to the bathroom.

"Cas happened," he muttered numbly.

"Is that the guy you were talking to?"

"Mhmm," Dean hummed from behind the bathroom door. He looked as though he was ready to fall asleep where he stood as he emerged from the bathroom.

"What happened?"

"I couldn't do it…" he muttered, and that was the last Sam got from him.

He was grateful Dean's door was unlocked when he tried to go in an hour later, even more so that his laptop didn't have a new password, and that his skype automatically logged in.

He turned the sound off when he saw the bubbles start to pop up. He only had one contact, so he opened the chat room.

 **cassienov**  Dean I am so sorry.

 **cassienov**  Please tell me what I did.

 **cassienov**  You meant the world to me, and still do. I would give anything to hear your voice again.

 **cassienov**  Or even just hear from you.

 **cassienov**  Are you even alive anymore?

 **cassienov**  Do I need to give up on you forever?

 **cassienov**  I don't want to.

 **cassienov**  Dean?

The last message had been sent a few days ago, and Sam was worried the other man might not see what he was about to send, but he tried anyway.

 **iamdean** I'm sorry. Please come meet me tomorrow at 6. We can have dinner at my place. I'll explain everything to you then.

 **iamdean** Please just come.

He sent another message with their address, and quickly logged out of Dean's stuff, shutting the screen down and sneaking back out.

"I'm going shopping," Sam said to Dean about a quarter to six the next day. "I made food for you. It's on the stove."

"Pasta?" Dean asked from his bed.

"Pasta," Sam confirmed. "I'll be a while… Just so you know."

"Okay. Bye."

Sam nodded and stepped back out of his room, taking the car keys and leaving. He drove about a quarter-mile up the road, parking the car before heading back to wait outside of their home.

He sat himself on a rock, and watched the gravel road carefully, checking his watch every once in a while. He sighed when it seemed like Castiel wasn't going to show, but he saw a yellow car driving up, and sure enough, there was Castiel in the cab.

He stepped out, and Sam stepped forward. "Castiel?"

Castiel narrowed his eyes at him. "You're not Dean."

"No, but I'm his brother."

Castiel rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "So, what? He's too chicken to come and see me, so he sent someone else to explain?"

Sam shook his head. "No. No, I don't have a clue what happened between you two. All I know is that he's been miserable without you-"

"-It's his own damn fault."

"I know," Sam said, nodding in agreement. "I know it is. And I know that he probably pushed you away because he doesn't feel like he deserves you. And he might be right, but not for the reason he's thinking…"

"And what would that reason be?"

Castiel was a bit scary when he was upset, Sam decided. He could see why Dean liked him so much. "You'll see soon enough."

Castiel uncrossed, then recrossed his arms, changing his stance. "What? I'm going to actually see him?"

Sam nodded. "You'll have to go in. He… He doesn't know you're here."

Castiel's face fell. "What?"

Sam held up his hands in defense. Castiel looked as though he could kill him. "I sent you the message. I know Dean wants you, he just won't ask for you. I felt like I needed to step in."

"Well you shouldn't have. I don't care about him."

"We both know that's a lie."

Castiel pursed his lips. "I don't want to be with him if he acts like this."

"You'll understand once you see him. Please, just… go inside. He's in his room."

"And how am I supposed to know which one that is?"

"Second on the right." Sam had said all he could. He gestured to the door. "Please," he added as a final plead.

Castiel's glare was still hard, but it eventually softened, and he gave in with a sigh. "I'll go in."

Sam nodded. "Be gentle with him… He'll probably be terrified."

"Why do you sa-" He cut himself off. "I'll see when I get in?"

Sam nodded, and began to walk away. "I'll be gone for a while. Enjoy your time."

Castiel waited until Sam was a decent way down the road before he carefully opened the door, stepping inside.

It was cozy and warm, the colors of the wood matching exactly how he felt when he stepped in. He noticed pictures up on the wall, and stared at them as he shut the door, taking them in. Some of them were old, with two boys who looked to be very young, but some were more recent, and Castiel immediately pegged one of the men as Dean. He was smiling in them, looking exactly how Castiel imagined he would without his heavy makeup and costume on.

He counted the doors as he walked, passing the first one, then stopping in front of the second. He was nervous, his stomach tightening.

He reached forward to grab the handle, turning it slowly, creaking the door open. He stepped in, shutting it behind him.

"I thought you'd be gone a while?" Dean muttered from his bed.

"He will be," Castiel replied after calming himself enough to trust his voice.

There was light flooding in from under the door, but that was it as Dean's room had no windows.

Dean still knew who it was.

He rolled over as quickly as he could, pulling his blanket up to hide himself from Castiel. "What are you doing here?"

"Your brother asked me to come."

"You need to leave."

Castiel walked farther in to his room. "That's not going to happen."

"Yes it is. Get out."

"Not until you talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about. I'm not in to you."

"That's a lie. And even if it's not, you owe me an explanation."

"Under what law?"

"Look at me, Dean." It wasn't a request.

"No."

"Now."

Dean sat up in his bed. "Why? So you can look at me weird? Run away? Call me a freak? I'm good."

"I wouldn't do that to you."

"Bullshit! Everybody does!"

"I won't."

Dean scoffed. "I don't believe you."

"You won't know until you try."

"Fine." Dean clicked on his lamp, whipping around on Castiel. "Is this what you wanted to see? Huh? My fucked up face!? …God. Look at you." Castiel was staring at him with wide eyes, unable to speak. Dean scoffed. "Pathetic."

His eyes were watering, and Castiel noticed, but Dean wouldn't look away for another minute, keeping his jaw strong until he just couldn't anymore. He dropped his head down to hide his tears, but Castiel couldn't look at away.

He was horrified. Not at Dean, but at himself. He'd thought so little of Dean's scars, assuming they were fake, belittling him and his feelings, and he felt sick about it. But Dean was crying, and he had to snap himself out of it.

He walked forward cautiously, bending down slightly when he got to Dean, he reached forward, touching Dean's scar, running his fingers down it softly and slowly. Dean sucked in a hiss, but Castiel didn't stop, working down to his jaw.

He hooked his finger under his chin, tilting his head up, kissing him before Dean could even react. It was soft, and gentle, and Dean's lips were quivering as he tried to pull away, but Castiel had his thumb locked down, and Dean couldn't pull away. He gave up trying after a moment, and just let Castiel kiss him.

Tears rolled out of his eyes, but Castiel ignored them, breaking the kiss to look in to Dean's eyes, who reached out and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him down on to his lap to hug him as hard as he could, nuzzling his face in to the crook of his neck, trying to get the tears to stop.

"Cas," he muttered. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." His fingers were curled in to Castiel's shirt, clutching and tugging him closer.

Castiel had his arm around his neck, one hand playing with his hair, just trying to calm him down. "It's okay, Dean. It's okay."

"I should-… I didn'-… have lost you…" Dean could barely form a coherent sentence, but Castiel didn't care.

"It's okay. I forgive you. I… Understand why, Dean. It's okay."

"-And I don't deserve you, and I never will, and… and…"

Castiel pulled back enough to kiss his forehead. "It's okay, Dean. Let it out."

Dean didn't cry for long, but he refused to let go of Castiel, keeping his face nuzzled in to his neck, breathing deeply, taking in the faint scent of Castiel's cologne, reeling in his soft body and touches.

"I should have done more," Castiel whispered, resting his cheek on top of Dean's head, his hair soft. "I should have made you feel safe enough to tell me the truth, to let you know that I wouldn't run away from you, or push you away.

"You did more than enough. It was my fault."

"Shhh," Castiel soothed, running his fingers through Dean's hair. "It was warranted."

"No…"

"It's okay."

Dean finally pulled back from Castiel's neck, looking up at him. His cheekbones were red, and his eyes were the same, but he spoke clearly. "Uhh…" He cleared his throat. "Sam made some pasta… Would you like to eat with me?"

The corners of Castiel's lips turned up, and he brought his hands forward to cup his jaw, leaning in to kiss where the scar cut across his cheekbone. "I'd love to."

Dean took hold of one of Castiel's hand as he helped him off of his lap, and refused to let go of it while they walked, nor while Dean warmed their food. He kept his face turned away from Castiel, but the other wasn't too keen on that.

"You can look at me, Dean."

"I know. I just don't want  _you_  to look at _me_."

"Well, I want to." Dean shifted his eyes to look at him, then turned his head to face him. Castiel smiled. "There's my handsome man."

Dean snapped his head away. "Don't lie."

"I don't have to."

Dean looked back to him. "That's bullshit."

"Is it really that hard for you to believe I find you attractive?"

Dean clicked off the burner underneath the pot. "Yeah, it is."

"Well it shouldn't be," Castiel admitted, taking Dean's other hand, holding them both close to him. Dean was uncomfortable with Castiel's unwavering stare, but he couldn't look away.

"Why would you find me attractive?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Dean parted his lips to speak, but nothing came out. He knew full well why. "Dean, I found you attractive on Halloween, I found you attractive, even when I couldn't see you, and I find you attractive now."

"But Cas, this isn't Halloween makeup. This isn't something I can just get rid of when you grow tired of it, when you want me back to normal. Trust me, I've tried."

"I know that, Dean."

"Then how can you find this attractive? Knowing that you'd have to wake up to it every morning, and fall asleep to it every night…"

"I look forward to falling asleep with  _you_ , Dean, and waking up to  _you_. You're not your scars."

Dean was watching him, biting the inside of his lip. He laughed after a minute, looking down. "I feel guilty."

"What for?"

"Falling in love with you."

Castiel smiled. "Don't you dare."

Dean smiled, and Castiel's eyes brightened. He loved Dean's smile. "Let's eat."

They sat in relative silence neither of them really in the mood to eat too much. They didn't speak again until Dean had led Castiel over to one of the large armchairs in front of their fireplace. He sat down, and Castiel sat on top of him, curling in to him, tracing random patterns in to his neck and shoulder with his finger as he rested his head on his shoulder.

"Dean?" Castiel asked.

"Yeah?"

"How… How did it happen? Your…"

"Scars?" Castiel nodded, and Dean sighed.

"You don't have to tell me," Castiel interrupted, looking up and stilling his hands.

Dean shook his head. "It's okay. You should know."

He cleared his throat. "My squad and I were setting up a base for the night, and we chose a bad spot. One of my guys hit a land-mine, and it was like a chain reaction. It set off some others…" Dean shook his head. "I could go in to detail, but I really don't remember much after that. It was all kinda blurry. I know I woke up in America, and I couldn't speak, and my face felt like it'd been ripped off, which-" he laughed. "-it essentially had…"

"I wasn't always this way about it, though," he added, attempting to explain why he'd done what he'd done. "Once I was able to actually talk normally, I went out in public. That's… They started pointing, and whispering, and staring… I… I couldn't handle it, and I still can't. It's humiliating."

Castiel was quiet, but he brought one of his hands up and across Dean, stroking his cheek. "If it ever happens again, Dean, remember that somebody loves you, just the way you are."

Dean turned his head to look at Castiel. His eyes were half-lidded as he scanned over his face. "Do you love me, Cas?"

"I… I think so." He thought for a moment, then nodded to himself. "I love you."

Dean's lips quirked up. "How do you know?"

"I've known you for over a year," Castiel started, his fingers brushing down Dean's cheek. "And I wouldn't even let myself think about loving you until Valentines Day, when you sang to me, and…" He smiled. "And then it was all downhill from there. I wanted you, Dean. I  _longed_ for you, and your touch, and when I finally had it… That's when I knew."

Dean smiled full on, showing his teeth, forgetting completely about everything he thought was wrong with himself as he leaned in to kiss Castiel, bringing his hand up to cup his face.

Their kiss was perfect, and Dean saw himself attached to those lips for the rest of his life, the simple touch filling him with relief, and warmth, and love. They shifted to rest more comfortably in the chair, not breaking their kiss.

It wasn't even a kiss, not really. They were connecting with each other, focusing on each touch or their skin, and shift of their lips, and movement against each other.

Sam was what broke them apart, but not by much. They both looked over the back of the chair, only moving their heads to watch Sam enter and hang his jacket up.

He blinked at them. "I'm just… yeah." He nodded at them, and walked through their home, slowing to open his door, even more so when Dean spoke.

"Sam?"

He looked back. "Yeah?"

"Thanks."

He smiled and nodded before retreating in to his room. Dean turned his attention back to Castiel. "How does it sound to wake up to me tomorrow?"

"So long as I get you while I fall asleep as well."

"Wouldn't dream of it any other way."

They spent some more time curled together on the chair, finally moving when they decided they'd had enough.

Dean couldn't keep his hands off of Castiel once they were in his room, his fingers skirting over his hips and up his shirt, brushing over soft skin, earning shivers and whimpers that he just couldn't get enough of.

"Cas," he breathed out as he stepped closer to him, holding his hips as he pressed their bodies together, nuzzling in to his neck. "I really get you? All to myself?"

"All to yourself," Castiel agreed, draping his arms over Dean's shoulders, allowing him to kiss the hollow of his neck. He tipped his head back. "I'm all yours."

Dean slid his hands up Castiel's body, under his shirt, fingers trailing over his skin until he could go no farther, then moved his hands to his shirt, tugging it up and over his shoulders, dropping in on the ground. He got a quick look at his body, but Castiel was sucking up to him quickly, fingers wrapping around Dean, going down to the hem of his shirt, his face pressed to his chest.

"What are you doing?" Dean laughed as Castiel began to finger at his shirt, slowly raising it.

"If I have to be cold then so do you."

Dean brought his hands down to cover Castiel's the best he could. "I'll keep you warm."

"I'm taking off your shirt," Castiel responded, his voice stern.

"Cas…" Dean warned, though didn't fight it anymore. Castiel stopped, however, raising his hands to cup Dean's face as he stepped back enough to look at him. He let his eyes roam around his face, studying every little thing about him. Dean felt uncomfortable about it, and looked down and away, but Castiel didn't relent.

"Dean, look at me." He did. "I know you're scared I won't like what I see under your shirt, but no matter how bad it is, I won't run."

Dean looked at him, and Castiel looked right back with ernest eyes. He swallowed hard, and moved his hands to the hem of his shirt, giving Castiel time to step back as he lifted it up, taking it off, dropping it to the ground beside his own.

Castiel took a second to roam his eyes over Dean's body, then stepped in, wrapping his arms low around him in a hug, kissing the start of a scar over one of his pecks. He shivered as he pressed their bodies together. "It feels so good to touch you."

Dean wrapped his arms around him. "I don't deserve you."

"You deserve better." Castiel stepped back, hooking his fingers on Dean's waistband. "Come on. Let's get you out of these and in to bed."

Castiel didn't waste much time in taking off his own pants, hopping on to Dean's bed. He flattened himself out on it, inhaling deeply. "That's so comforting," he breathed out, stretching his arms forward to grab one of Dean's pillows, pulling it close. He placed his head on top of it, and Dean could barely move, enamored with watching Castiel.

Dean finally shed himself of his sleep pants, ambling over to the bed. He sat beside Castiel, placing a hand on his back. He ran it up his soft and smooth skin, and Castiel shivered. "Your hands are rough," he commented, but retracted it when Dean removed his hand. "No! I like it."

Dean cautiously placed it back down, and Castiel relaxed under it, even more so when he gently began to rub his shoulders and spine. He rolled over without warning after a minute, grabbing Dean's hands with a grin.

He placed his hands down on his chest, letting his palms rest flat, but didn't let go of them. "Got you," he whispered, and Dean grinned.

"You sure did." He looked around the room, noticing for once that it seemed lighter in there, and he was positive that it was all because of Castiel. He stretched his back, and arched himself down to the bed, resting flat on his side.

Castiel curled in to him without a second thought, and Dean enjoyed how in synch they were already, and how much he loved just having the other there for him.

They kissed. It was slow, and languid, and Dean almost didn't want to break it. But when he did, it was with a smile.

Castiel leaned in to kiss his nose, and Dean scrunched it up, leaning in to kiss Castiel's, who pulled the same face. They laughed, and Dean knew that he'd love to be with this man for as long as time permitted them to be.

He reached down between their bodies, grabbing Castiel's hand, pulling it up. He pressed his lips to his knuckles, eyes still locked on him. "I've got you."

Castiel smiled in return, his eyes soft and filled with love for the man in front of them, and Dean could feel it. He tangled their feet together. "You sure do."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hoped you guys enjoyed this story. It was a lot of fun for me to write, so I hope you had fun reading it.
> 
> I'd like to thank Axis, for being amazing and betaing this. I added some parts, so any mistakes are probably from that as she did a great job. If you wanna send praise her way, her ff is axisofsymmetry, and so is her tumblr. :)
> 
> If you have any questions, please let me know.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is polarbearcas, so feel free to check it out, if you'd like.


End file.
